Chapter 1 - The Boys of Summer
Summary: The Shepard Gang is known for getting into trouble around Tulsa. This fic follows their many antics and Tim Shepard's attempts to keep them in line. Will contain the spanking of minors.
"The fuck happened to you two?" Tim sounded more confused than annoyed, which was always a good thing.
"Fuckin' Brumly Boys were acting like jackasses. Didn't like it when we told them that." Jesse lied easily. Curly just let him do the talking. He was always better at bullshitting Tim, in fact, at fourteen he was better at most things.
Tim rolled his eyes, getting up from where he'd been watching tv with his sister and Mikey, who was looking at them all nervously. "Alright, let's get you guys cleaned up." Tim said, eyeing them up and down, taking in their bruised faces and busted lips.
"You boys should try not to start shit with those guys. They got no problem pulling blades on someone without one." The gang leader lectured as he took the teens to the only bathroom at the Shepard's house.
"We know, but it's hard not to when they start running their mouths." Jesse shrugged, looking much more collected than Curly felt.
"You boys run your mouths all the damn time and I don't jump you." Tim snorted, pouring some disinfectant on a rag and holding it against the cut that was under Jesse's eye. That cut had come from a blade one of the Brumly goons had pulled on them when they showed up without all the smack sold. Curly, Jesse, and Mikey had been selling the shit on the side for the Brumly Boys, but the other gang had been giving them more and more to sell. They only ever sold a little bit at school or to known users, so they didn't have a huge client base for it, making it hard to sell larger amounts. What had started out as some quick cash had turned into a full on gig pretty quickly, something that none of the boys really wanted to be involved in. They had to keep what they were doing on the serious downlow, not wanting the rest of their gang to find out. Tim would flip his lid, and they couldn't trust that the other guys wouldn't tell him if they caught wind of it.
Their gang was pretty tight knit, being the only family most of the boys really had. Tim was their clear leader, there was never any disputing that. He was the eldest at twenty-one and he made sure everyone knew he was in charge. He'd been the boss since they were all young and that wasn't gonna change anytime soon.
Curly was his hard headed, fifteen year old brother. He was one of the younger members, a fact that no one let him forget. He wasn't his brother's second in command, that role went to Alexander Quincy, a quiet nineteen year old. He could use a blade better than anyone in Tulsa and he knew it too. Alex's family was pretty big, he was the youngest with four older sisters. Curly always liked being around him, they had some sort of youngest sibling solidarity, so Alex never really treated him like a kid.
Tommy Kelly was seventeen and had practically lived at the Shepard house all his life. He was their next door neighbor and had it pretty bad at home. The spare room at the Shepard's was unofficially dubbed his bedroom and had been since elementary school.
The youngest member of their gang was Jesse Anderson. He was smart, although you wouldn't know it by looking at his school report cards. He knew how to get under everyone's skin. It was like he could see what would piss you off from just one glance, then he'd go right on ahead and do whatever it was. Curly's pretty sure Tim spends half his time trying to knock some sense into the boy's head via his ass.
Jesse's cousin, Adam Mitchell, was sixteen. Like his cousin, he was a smartass, although he had learned to keep his mouth shut when it counts. His mother worked street corners, but if you ever mentioned it in front of him he'd break your nose.
Mikey was fifteen and the shyest of the group. If Michael Harrison hadn't been born a hood, he'd probably be a doctor or some fancy shit like that. Tim always swore that he was gonna make sure Mikey finishes college if it's the last thing he does.
Justin O'Reilley was their last gang member, unless you count Angela, which Curly refuses too. Justin's sixteen and he's got an eight year old brother, Max, who's a real brat. He walks on water in Tim's eyes, pain in the ass kid can't do anything wrong. Their parents died a few years back so their uncle moved in to look after them, although he ain't really done much besides drink half the booze in the whole damn city.
For the guys, the gang wasn't about what people expected, pulling dumb stunts or any shit like that. They were brothers and that's what counted.
"You want me to deal with Bruce?" Tim offered, looking a little pissed about the obvious wounds from blades on his boys. Bruce was the leader of the Brumly Boys and the asshole running the dealing operation.
"No!" Curly said way too quickly. Tim looked at his suspiciously while Jesse shot him a glare. "I mean, we can handle shit ourselves, Tim. You don't gotta baby us." He added hastily.
"Clearly you can't handle shit if you're gonna come home lookin' like this." Tim frowned. "If it happens again, I'm having a chat with Brucie." Curly and Jesse exchanged looks, both silently vowing to not let Tim know if this does happen again.
Tim left the bathroom, leaving the boys to finish washing up. A few moments later, Mikey came in, shutting the door and looking at them warily. "Does he suspect anything?"
"Nah, we fight with those clowns enough that this ain't too out of the ordinary." Jesse shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bathtub.
Mikey looked visibly relieved. "What the hell happened anyway? Why'd they fuck you up?"
"Bruce and his guys were pissed we hadn't sold all the shit. It's their own fuckin' fault though. How the fuck are we supposed to keep selling double what we did last week when we gotta keep what we're doing from half the city?" Curly grumbled, washing his face off in the sink.
"I don't like this, guys. I don't wanna keep sneaking around and selling more smack and getting our asses kicked by those dicks." Mikey ran a hand over his face, looking pretty nauseous.
"It's too fuckin' late for that. We can't just back out now, they'd kill us." Jesse sighed. "Besides, we're making good money."
"We're barely even making shit, they take most of the cash." Curly complained.
"Well something is better than nothing." Jesse scowled. "Look, the only way out is to go crying to Tim and I'm not itching to do that. Are you?" Both Curly and Mikey immediately shook their heads. No one wanted to experience that ass kicking.
"Boys! Quit dicking around and come have dinner." Tim hollered from the other side of the house.
The three of them rushed to the kitchen. You never wanted to be the last one there because then you had to sit on the shitty lawn chair. They didn't have enough kitchen chairs at the table, since Tommy and Adam broke one of them when they were younger, so the last one to the table has to sit on the mismatched lawn chair they took from some neighbors yard years ago.
The boys took their seats, grinning when Justin and his kid brother, Max, came in late. Justin had to sit on the crappy chair as Max made a run for the chair next to Tim's. "Don't you think Tommy or Ads should have to sit here since it's their fault we don't have a normal one?" Justin complained.
"Quit whining. Whoever takes the longest when I call sits there, so listen better next time." Tim smirked slightly. Lucky bastard was just happy because his chair was practically reserved for him.
Angela put the food on the table, quickly stepping back after as the frenzy of teenage boys attacked it. "What do you say to Angel?" Tim reminded the guys, trying to glare some manners into them.
"Thanks, Angela." Said a chorus of boys trying to talk with food in their mouths. Curly never really liked his sister hanging around with the gang that much. Mostly because she always babied him. Being a year older at sixteen, she acted like she was his damn mother. But the girl could cook, and without her they'd all be eating Alex's burnt pasta or some other gross shit.
"Dude, what happened to your face?" Tommy asked, poking Curly's bruised cheek. The Shepard smacked his hand away, scowling.
"Nothin'. What happened to your ugly face?" He shot back. Tommy rolled his eyes, looking towards Tim, who was busy helping Max cut up his food, despite the kid being perfectly capable of doing it his damn self.
"They got into it with the Brumly's." Tim explained.
"Those guys are such dicks. I heard they've been selling smack and shit around town." Adam said while flicking a pea at Justin's head. Curly, Jesse, and Mikey all froze, each looking at each other in terror, but trying to act casual about it.
"Where'd you hear that?" Tim asked, looking up now.
Adam shrugged. "Some guys at school were talkin' about it. Dallas Winston mentioned it too. Said Darry Curtis doesn't want his guys fuckin' around near their turf now."
Tim gave the gang a hard look. "If that shit's true, then you boys better stay away from there too. Clear?" He looked right at the two cut and bruised up boys.
They all muttered some form of 'yes', although no one looked too happy about it. The Brumly Boy's turf has one of the best greaser bars in the city.
"I'm serious. I hear any one of you went there and your ass is mine." Tim said firmly. "We don't fuck with smack."
"What's smack?" Max asked, tugging on Tim's shirt sleeve.
"It's what you'll get if you go near that old factory district." The old warehouses were the base of all Brumly related operations.
Max wrinkled his nose. "That place smells, who would wanna go there?" Kid was right, it always smelled like garbage around there. Not nearly as nice as the Shepard's alleys or the Curtis' park.
The conversation drifted back to their usual discussions of shit like girls and parties and dumb crap they'd gotten into that day. Curly caught Tim eyeing him and Jesse a few times, which was pretty panic inducing. The last thing they needed was him figuring out what they've been up to. Towards the end of dinner, he worried that Tim was gonna wanna talk to the two of them again. The younger boys looked relieved when an argument between Justin and Tommy turned physical, knocking a bunch of shit off the counters. Tim turned his attention to yelling at them, giving the two of them and Mikey enough time to leave the table and head out of the house, calling over their shoulders that they were going to hang out at Mike's. They needed to figure out a way out of this mess without letting Tim know what they'd gotten themselves into.